For All The Wrong Reasons
by Upon a Shooting Star
Summary: What if he was gone, truly gone, forever? No soul implantation, no promise of a rebirth…just gone? When the Blood Pledge Castle is suddenly attacked, Conrad finds himself on the run with an unconscious black-haired Maou—on the verge of death...and is faced with his worst nightmare and deepest fear.


**For All The Wrong Reasons**

Summary: What if he was gone, _truly_ gone, forever? No soul implantation, no promise of a rebirth…just gone? When the Blood Pledge Castle is suddenly attacked, Conrad finds himself on the run with an unconscious black-haired Maou on the verge of death...and is faced with his worst nightmare and deepest fear.

* * *

It was very ironic how things turned out, Weller-kyo Conrad thought grimly as he ran as fast as he could, holding an unconscious black-haired Maou tightly in his arms. He was very aware of the slow, shallow breaths that came from the teen and he greatly feared that the next shaky, uncertain breath would be the Maou's last.

The imposing view of the Blood Pledge Castle, with its various towers and ornament roofing structures, slowly disappeared from view, as did the distant shouts, clamours and screeching of sword against sword. The battle was still raging within the castle walls, allies and enemies alike scattered on the ground, turning the once peaceful and warm castle into a war-torn battleground that the brown-haired soldier knew the teen Maou would have hated to see.

But there was nothing he could do about that. War had come onto their doorstep, and the only thing that he could do—the only thing that he _wanted_ to do—was to keep their precious Maou safe and alive, consequences be damned. Not that any of the others would object to his line of thinking, the wellbeing and safety of Yuuri was of uttermost priority to each and every one of them.

Shrubbery and trees soon entered his line of vision and Conrad veered off the path, jumping into the forest, never faltering in his long strides. His harsh breathing rang in his ears, and with each intake of air, Conrad knew that time was running out. Pumping his legs faster, lengthening his strides even further, the brown-haired soldier could only hope that he would make it in time, that he would not fail to keep his king safe.

That he would not fail Yuuri.

Numerous explosions had gone off throughout the castle, accompanied by the gleeful, high-pitched laugh of Anissina, so he had concluded that the red-haired scientist was well, if not heaping misery upon their enemies with her atrocious experiments. He knew that Gwendal was heading off the defence of the castle, barking off orders left and right, even as his ever-present worrylines accumulated in number, while the tall lavender-haired advisor was flitting to and fro, helping anyone in need along with his medic of a daughter. The last he had seen of Wolfram was the blonde slashing his way through the enemies, an enraged expression on his face. Conrad wasn't quite sure if the look of fury on his half-brother's face was due to the enemies getting in his way, or if Wolfram had caught a glimpse of the limp Yuuri in his arms as Conrad dashed by.

It was truly ironic how one's words would come back and bite said person not-so-nicely on the ass…a Earthian term that Yuuri had used once, and one which Conrad now unfortunately fully understood. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, deep brown eyes darting to and fro to detect any signs of danger, ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary, all senses alert and tense for slightest hint of trouble.

Well, he got his wish, didn't he?

Yes, he was abandoning the castle. Yes, he was carrying Yuuri in his arms. Yes, he was running away.

But—

They weren't running away for quite the same reason that Conrad had envisioned, when he had said those fateful words to Yuuri that one afternoon. Rather, they were running for their lives. Or at least, Conrad was running for Yuuri's life, seeing as the double black was the target of all the attacks, and the ultimate prize for their enemies. It was really…

—for all the wrong reasons.

He was only abandoning the castle in a desperate attempt to keep their beloved king alive. He was carrying Yuuri only because the black-haired boy was unconscious and couldn't move. And he wasn't running away _with _Yuuri, he was simply just running away.

It was all his fault too, the fact that his beloved king, the most important person to him, was now just barely hanging onto life instead of breathing and laughing freely, with that carefree look sparkling in his obsidian eyes.

All his fault. And Yuuri had _smiled_ before…

The steady _drip drip _of blood from his open wound at his side and numerous other cuts and scratches went unnoticed by Conrad, his thoughts focused on one thing, and one thing only. The pain, if he even felt it, was barely an afterthought as adrenaline coursed through every inch of his body, pushing him to the limit and beyond. The surroundings blurred before his eyes, wind whipping his hair wildly, but Conrad did not slow down at all, even when the trees grew closer and closer together, the thickening shrubbery making his headlong rush almost impossible. Soon, he was using his own body as a self-improvised batting ram, but always making sure that no harm came to the limp form cradled protectively against his chest.

The mossy undergrowth of the forest soon turned into dirt and loose gravel, and as his military-issued boots pounded against the rough path, the sturdy, weather-worn walls of the Shinou Shrine rising up beyond the treelines, Conrad had a very untimely realisation.

It was neither the time nor the place to admit the thought to himself, but if nothing else, he was an honest and straight-forward man, not prone to beating around the bush like he had been doing a second ago…and his sense of humor was truly terrible. If Yuuri had been awake, he probably would have groaned good-naturedly at his horrible joke before giving Conrad that beautiful, gentle smile that said nothing and everything at the same time.

Whatever tomorrow may bring, whatever hardships and dangerous situations stood in the way, Weller-kyo Conrad would gladly accept and taken them head-on, because he had already staked his life on Shibuya Yuuri, on everything that the slender, kind-hearted Maou believed in. He would forfeit his life in a heartbeat if it meant his precious, beloved king would open those expressive, large obsidian eyes of his and gently reprimand Conrad for calling him Heika again.

What if…what if he would never glimpse those endless black orbs again?

Conrad's heart constricted painfully at the thought, even as he was dashing by surprised and alarmed Shrine Maidens, ignoring their panicked cries. His eyes stang, but he wasn't sure if it was from the wind whipping in his eyes or if it was the stinging of tears. He had been devastated when Julia had died, but he couldn't even begin to comprehend how he would act, what he would feel if Yuuri…

His breath suddenly hitched, a lump growing in his throat as the oxygen was momentarily blocked from entering his heaving chest. Strands of his brown hair slapped unmercifully against his skin as he skidded around the corner, nearly losing his balance but managing to right himself just in time. He couldn't breath now, the lump was refusing to disappear and instead appeared to expand, clogging his airway and depriving him of much needed oxygen. Funny, considering how he was desperately gasping for air, that the precious supply could be so easily cut off…and why was his vision blurred? Even half-Mazoku's like him didn't need the aid of glasses, their eyesight being superior to those of normal humans and less likely to deteriorate.

Conrad slowed down to fumble with the door blocking his path, carefully juggling the unconscious teen in his arms before roughly slamming open the wooden frame and stumbling inside. The only reason he had bothered to open the door at all, instead of kicking his way in, was because he thought Yuuri wouldn't appreciate crashing through the door when it was perfectly functioning. After all, destroying property, sacred property, wasn't high on Yuuri's moral list, in fact, it probably ranked somewhere on the list of things _never_ to do by the black-haired teen.

If he had been able to, a harsh laugh would have torn out of his throat, but as it was, he barely had enough air for breathing. His logic was all shot to hell, wasn't it? It really didn't matter which method he used to enter the chamber, assuming that he could kick through the sturdy door in the first place, because _the Maou was unconscious and not there to reprimand him. _

The solider was still alert enough to realise he was slowly going into shock, or hysteria, whichever came first and had more than likely already lost his famed cool and analytical mind when faced with life-threatening situations.

The resounding, loud bang announced his arrival in the sacred chamber where the Shinou dwelled, but Conrad was past the point of caring if he had disturbed the blonde-haired ex-king or not. On the contrarily, he wished for Shinou to be angry and come storming out. It would save Conrad the trouble of finding the miniature-version anyway, whichever dark corner the blonde may be haunting.

But no tiny, irritated blonde-haired Shinou appeared before Conrad, nor did a reproving Ulrike come out to scold him for causing such a commotion in the orderly temple. In fact, there was _no one_ in the chamber. The candles that were placed around the room were unlit, there was a musty, unaired smell in the room and a thin layer of dust even appeared to be coating the floors, speaking of disuse and abandonment.

It then struck him that he had gotten through the masses of Shrine Maidens too easily. Way too easily for someone who had ran all the way from the Blood Pledge Castle to the Shinou Shrine against the fit, trained warriors residing inside the temple walls.

Something wasn't right.

In fact, reflecting back on his mad dash to the chamber, the Shrine Maidens hadn't been yelling at him to stop, but had been crying out the name of the Shrine Maiden or otherwise gaping at the unconscious Maou in his arms.

But they had not once tried to stop him.

_Not now!_ A growl of frustration left his mouth, as Conrad wildly searched the room, looking for a clue, anything at all, while his brain frantically analysed his situation, presenting possible courses of action, but rejecting them just as quickly. He glanced down at the precious cargo in his arms, but at the sight of Yuuri's pained, distorted features, he harshly tore his eyes away, knowing that if he continued to stare at his king's pale features, he would fall deeper into a state of absolute panic, with rational thought completely out the window. And he couldn't afford that at all, not in the slightest, because Yuuri was counting on Conrad to keep him alive, was fully depending on his most trusted guardian to do his job and _protect_ him.

No normal healing Maryoku had worked on the Maou, and actually had the opposite effect, as the teen had been paler and weaker after each of Gisela's healing session, which was why he had hoped Ulrike and the Shinou had a solution to the unconscious teen's deteriorating health. Even more frustrating and worrying, was the fact that Geika had disappeared off somewhere, right when his vast knowledge was needed the most. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm, hard enough to draw blood as panicked frustration and hopelessness welled up in the soldier. If he had come all the way here for nothing, then Yuuri would…

As if the situation wasn't dire enough already, Conrad suddenly heard Yuuri release a low, gasping choke, his horribly limp form shuddering violently in his arms before falling ominously silent. It took the half-Mazoku an agonizing second to realise that Yuuri was not. Breathing. At. All.

No faint breaths, no weak puffs of air. No subtle rise and fall of his chest.

_Nothing. _

Panic like never before took hold of him, and Conrad felt his own heart stop, his body completely frozen in stark disbelief and overwhelming fear. He, with his very own hands, had just slammed down the final nail in Yuuri's inevitable coffin. He had, for all intents and purposes, killed his king due to his foolishness and incompetence.

His earlier question came back to haunt him, and though he wasn't one to wallow in despair or give up, it looked as if he was finally out of options, out of any viable plan to save Yuuri. His last, desperate hope of finding salvation at the Shinou Shrine had vanished along with the missing occupants of the chamber, leaving him more empty and cold than the large room ever was.

What else could he do, the boy had stopped breathing! Never before in his life had Conrad so utterly cursed his birth as a half-Mazoku, half-human. If he only was a full Mazoku, then he could use his Maryoku to do something, anything! Even if it was to pump the teen with Maryoku to shock his body, his now unbeating heart into restarting again…

His mind reeled, suddenly remembering a piece of information that he had come across during his time spent on Earth amidst his spiralling thoughts. There was something similar to restarting the heart…a medical procedure…something that required…He wasn't too sure on the specifics but it involved mouth-to-mouth and compressing on the chest every few seconds.

Despite the situation, despite the urgency, a blush found its way to his cheeks but Conrad immediately pushed that thought away. Now was not the time to be modest. He had already sworn his life to Yuuri, what would a simple kiss be?

_A lot._ His mind whispered but was resolutely ignored by the soldier as he gently settled the teen on the ground, frowning in concentration at the correct actions to take. First, pinch the nose and breathe.

Conrad closed his eyes, took an extra-large breath himself and leaned over Yuuri, forcing the teen's mouth apart so he could press his lips against his, blowing the air through the Maou's unresponsive body. Never in his wildest dreams had Conrad even dreamed something like this would happen, that their first kiss would be something like this, borne out of frantic desperation and grief, with Yuuri on the edge of death and Conrad himself nearly witless with fear and anguish.

It was the most unromantic, unusual and unthinkable first kiss and definitely not the best way to convey his feelings to Yuuri, but it would have to do. The boy's lips were cold, chapped but to Conrad none of that mattered because he was trying to save the Maou's life, not win him over with a kiss. Though it would be nice if that truly did happen, too…which would be the lack of oxygen talking, of course.

Compress.

Conrad put his hands ontop of Yuuri's chest and was struck with the realisation at how fragile, how delicate the young Maou was. Deep sorrow welled upon inside him at the thought of Yuuri's life being cut short before he even graduated from high school. This boy who Conrad had given his heart willingly to and loved beyond words could express, a deep and pure love that was engraved in his very soul. If this young boy, this promising, kind-hearted, gentle, caring boy was to never awake again…

He pushed down hard, grimacing at the pain Yuuri would have if he—no, _when _he awoke—and then counted the seconds in his head.

Compress, wait a few seconds. Mouth-to-mouth. Repeat, repeat.

Yuuri meant so much to him, so much brighter and warmer than the sun Conrad had compared him to, so much more precious and cherished than anyone in his entire life and so, _so_ purely innocent and kind-hearted, awkwardly enduring in his unique way but always full of live, so vivid and vivacious.

He couldn't even begin to image how…

No, that wasn't true. Conrad would know exactly how he would react and what he would feel if Yuuri really did fade away like this. He knew very well what awaited him if the limp figure stayed limp forever, if those pair of beautiful obsidian never opened again. Conrad would be completely and utterly crushed, and this time, it would be permanent, everlasting.

What if he was gone, _truly_ gone, forever?

No soul implantation, no promise of a rebirth…just gone?

Not many things could perturb Conrad, faze him so much that he would lose all rationality, all control over his emotions and body, but he was the exception. Yuuri had always been the exception. Exhausted after the process, Conrad dropped his head onto the teen's stiff chest, straining his ears to hear even the slightest sound, the smallest indication that Yuuri was still there, that there was still a chance the boy would open his eyes and smile at him.

As the long seconds ticked by, and there was still no sign of response from Yuuri, Conrad began to truly doubt his abilities to protect and save the young king where it really mattered. Sure, he could keep Yuuri from getting hurt here and there, little injuries that was inconsequential so long as Yuuri was still alive. But when it truly mattered, when Yuuri's life was on the line…

His clenched fist slammed helplessly onto the dust-covered floor, his whole body shaking uncontrollably now.

He really was a failure, both as a half-Mazoku half-human, a failure as a soldier and an even bigger failure as the guardian and protector of the Maou. Conrad had utterly failed in his duty and promise to keep Yuuri safe, to protect him from any harm. His head dropped listlessly onto his chest, strands of hair obscuring his vision of Yuuri lying so motionlessly, so pale, so _lifelessly _on the ground.

So death-like.

Conrad's large frame suddenly crumbled in on itself as the very life seemed to leave him, dull brown eyes squeezing shut as an anguished cry tore itself from his throat.

"HEIKA!"

It was a cry of abject despair, raw grief and deep guilt that passed through his lips, complete devastation etched upon his handsome features as the warm, salty liquid finally freed from their prison, making their lonely way down his pale, numb cheeks. They dripped unnoticed onto the equally pale and cold face of the unconscious Maou, where they finally stopped, caught on the teen's unblinking eyelashes.

Yuuri truly was…he was…

And then those eyes fluttered open.

"C-con…rad…"

The scratchy, faint voice that threatened to give out any moment was like an angel's voice to Conrad's despairing mind, his head snapping up quickly to make eye contact with a weak, groaning Yuuri. Who was very much alive, and breathing.

"It's…it's Yuuri, Na-Nazukeoya. Call me…Yuuri."

Words failed him then, the sound of that familiar and so affectionate voice freezing him to the core, his brown eyes impossibly wide and unbelieving at the miracle before him. Conrad was pretty sure he had never looked so undignified, mouth wide open and gaping stupidly at the groggy boy in front of him, dried tear tracks visible on his cheeks while his usually immanent brown hair was mussed beyond words. His uniform bore the visible signs of war, with dirt, stains and blood—of enemies, of allies and of himself—adorning the material, torn and ripped in numerous places, not to mention the growing patch of his own crimson blood seeping from his deep wound.

But none of that mattered, because the very reason for his life still remained—had not been cruelly snatched away from him—and with each breath that Yuuri took, the colour was returning back to his pale cheeks, bringing life and vitality back to the black-haired teen.

Without even realising it, Conrad had gathered the frail teen in his arms, arms protectively around those slender shoulders, as a choked sob of relief left his mouth. He was enveloped by Yuuri's comforting warmth, reassured by the faint but steadily beating heart, the rasping breaths that puffed against his neck. "Yuuri." He buried his face in the teen's soft strands of black hair, savouring the scent that was uniquely Shibuya Yuuri's, heart fluttering with hope again.

Distantly, he could hear the pounding of feet against the floor, thunderous sounds that gradually drew closer, increasing in volume until the chamber was flooded with noise and commotion. Conrad could now make out the individual voices amidst the yelling and shouting that accompanied the rapidly approaching group of people. Wolfram's high-pitched, angry scream was easily heard above the din of the others, as was Gunter's loud wailing and even Gwendal's irritated tone. Conrad's lips lifted upwards, and he leaned back to share a grin with the still-dazed Maou. It looked, sounded rather, as if everyone was all right, albeit in a great frenzy over the safety of their precious Maou.

"Heika, your cavalry's arriving," the brown-haired soldier teased gently, to which Yuuri simply groaned and snuggled closer to Conrad, apparently already having developed a headache from the loud racket. In response, Conrad pulled Yuuri closer to himself, releasing a content sigh as he felt a great weight lifting off his shoulders. Intertwined in all the noise was the calm, patient voice of the Great Sage, Murata Ken, and Conrad knew that Yuuri would be in safe hands. Within the great store of knowledge and experience in the Great Sage's mind, Conrad was confident that Yuuri's perplexing condition would quickly be diagnosed and cured.

"Yuuri. It's Yuuri." His voice was muffled against the soldier's uniform, but Conrad could hear the fondness in the teen's words.

There would be time later to assess the damage to the Blood Pledge Castle, to deal with the injured and the dead, to reorganise the castle defence and hold a war council. But for now, at that very moment, with Yuuri sound and safe in his arms, breathing softly against his chest and their hearts beating together in sync, nothing else mattered to Weller-kyo Conrad.

He was right by Yuuri's side. And there was no other place where he'd rather be but beside the black-haired teen.

* * *

**AN: **I've always wanted to try my hand at writing a ConYuu oneshot, so here it is. Please enjoy and let me know if anything seemed funny or if Conrad and Yuuri were OOC. All reviews and comments welcome!


End file.
